


Crumpled

by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade



Series: Shitposting's Writuary 2020 [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Feuilly pov, Ficlet, Gen, Writuary, Writuary 2020, ambiguous era, barricade scene, canonical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade/pseuds/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade
Summary: Jean Prouvaire is missing.
Relationships: Feuilly & Jean Prouvaire
Series: Shitposting's Writuary 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593583
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Writuary 2020





	Crumpled

Jehan is missing.

It’s easy to keep his head on when Feuilly has this clear goal before him. Jehan is missing, so Jehan must be found.

Their poet not among the injured, not among the dead. Feuilly mentally ticks off those locations, continuing to search with determinedly calm focus. There are lots of places for a poet to get lost at a barricade.

Their prisoner remains bound in a spare room waiting for judgment, Enjolras and Combeferre speaking among themselves in low voices.

Jehan is not with the prisoner. _Tick._

Upstairs is abandoned, the place where the poet would normally lounge dreamily and talk on the stars and fate and romance abandoned to a swirl of dust and used cups.

Jehan is not in the Corinthe. _Tick._

There is no rush, he reminds himself firmly as he descends the stairwell. Enjolras and Combeferre are exactly where he left them, as is everyone else. Reclined against what once might have been a charming piano, Grantaire’s fingers lap lazily at the ivory keys as he throws back another swig of wine, heel drumming an uncharacteristic staccato against the paving stones below it.

Jehan is not at the barricade. _Tick._

Feuilly feels wound tightly as the strings of Grantaire’s piano once were, but there are still more places to check. There are always more places for a poet to hide away.

_“Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!”_

A shot rings out, aftershocks echoing through the stone-silent barricade.

Enjolras and Combeferre are speaking again, about that subject which until now he has refused to hear. The world slows, his brain crashing to an unwilling halt, and Feuilly falls to his knees.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments, or you can reach out at my [tumblr](https://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com). :)
> 
> Original post [here](https://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com/post/190050327609/writuary-prompt-crumpled).


End file.
